


Moonlight Sonata

by CarolinaNadeau



Series: The Music Man: The Happily-Ever-After [18]
Category: The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Music room rendezvous, Trading Innuendos, smexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 06:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10270490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolinaNadeau/pseuds/CarolinaNadeau
Summary: Harold Hill arrives home to find his wife absorbed in playing the piano, and can find only one way to express the depth of his appreciation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the fic "And There Was Music" by Finestranima, originally published on FF.net in 2011, and I have used and adapted several lines from that story in this adaptation.

The sun had long set by the time Professor Harold Hill finally made his way down Maple Street to the house he shared with his beloved wife.  
  
It had been a long and stiflingly hot day, and then a ridiculous mishap with a misplaced shipment had forced him to work an hour and a half later than usual – he thought that he might simply collapse onto the parlor sofa in exhaustion and relief as soon as he stepped inside.  
  
As he drew closer to the front gate, he could hear the familiar, unmistakable sound of the piano emanating from the house. Marian must have left the window open in the music room – unsurprising, given how hot it had been and still was, even in the absence of sunlight. What _was_ surprising was coming home to piano music at this hour. It was far too late for her to still be giving lessons…  
  
After he had their front door firmly closed and locked behind him, Harold made his way straight to the music room, stopping only to drop his briefcase in the parlor. His exhaustion suddenly forgotten, the music drew him in like a siren’s song.  
  
The door to the music room was left wide open, allowing the music professor to observe immediately that it was in fact Marian playing, and she was indeed alone. He stepped into the doorway softly, not wanting to disturb her, but somehow, he suspected that it wouldn’t have mattered.  
  
Even from behind, he could see that she was lost in the music, her entire heart, body, and soul engaged in giving voice to the darkly emotional strains of what he now recognized as Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Her body swayed subtly as she played, as if the music was flowing through her very veins, and every press of her fingers upon the keys seemed to brand her heart into each one. The sheet music was open on the piano, but he could tell she wasn't reading it.  
  
As always when he heard Marian play, Harold was filled with pride and awe at her immense natural talent. She should have been playing on a grand piano in a crowded concert hall instead of on an upright piano in an empty house, he thought. Even those who knew her well would surely be astonished at the passion in her performance – true, Marian was quite the passionate little being, but that wasn’t the sort of thing that just anyone got to see every day.  
  
He’d been learning a bit of piano from her ever since they had begun their courtship the summer before, but any sound he could produce was still halting, hesitant, forced. There was no comparison to the way she could make the piano come alive. She knew just how to touch the keys to draw out the most beautiful of cadences, her foot moving rhythmically on the pedal.  
  
The only other thing she knew so well, so intimately, and gave herself to so passionately, he realized, was _him_. He’d first been thinking of the piano as an extension of herself – now he realized that it was more like a lover.  
  
Harold’s breath faltered, his heart pounding. Since the first time she’d showed him her playing, he’d found the sight of her at the piano absolutely lovely, but he’d never before thought of it as so starkly _erotic_. His resolve to not disturb her broken, all he could think of was Marian melting into his arms, the passion she was putting into her playing transferring so naturally to him.  
  
Entranced, he walked toward her, gazing raptly at the soft, pale curve of her neck bent toward the piano. As he drew closer, he could already catch the tantalizing scent of her lavender perfume, and he wanted nothing more than to drown himself in that aroma and every other one she offered, to immerse all five of his senses in everything that was Marian. He was ravenous for her.  
  
Not stopping to consider the wisdom (or lack thereof) of what he was doing, he bent down to kiss her neck, letting his fingers run through the stray wisps of golden hair at the nape.  
  
Almost instantly, Marian jumped, her fingers crashing on the keys and her elbow slamming into his chest as she whirled around, knocking the wind out of him and sending him reeling ungracefully to the floor.  
  
“Harold Gregory Hill! You should know better than to scare me like that!” she scolded, voice trembling, cheeks pink. “I thought I was alone!”  
  
Harold grimaced, rubbing the place where she’d hit him. She had a point, he supposed, but he couldn’t understand how she was _that_ startled. “I put my key in the door, opened it, shut it and walked halfway across the house into this room. How did you not hear me?”  
  
“I was _playing_ ,” Marian responded primly, pointing out the very obvious. However, the annoyance soon faded from her beautiful features and she dropped to her knees beside him in sympathy, pulling his hand away from where he’d pressed it and gently kissing his chest. “Poor dear – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”  
  
“No, _I’m_ sorry. I should have realized.” Harold clasped her hand, pressing an apologetic kiss against it before helping her back up to her feet. Perhaps a bit selfishly, he hoped that he hadn’t irrevocably ruined the beautiful tableau he’d walked in on with his foolish behavior. "Why don't you keep playing? I was really enjoying it," he said with a nod to the piano, hoping to recreate the moment with a more satisfactory outcome.  
  
"Enjoying it, or enjoying me playing it?" she responded archly. But she sat down at the piano anyway, her fingers alighting on the keys with a gentle touch.  
  
"It's a toss up," Harold admitted with a smile. A delightfully wicked scheme forming in his mind, he grabbed the chair she used for teaching and pulled it right behind her so he could sit there, a task she watched with some bemusement.  
  
“Dare I ask what you’re doing?”  
  
“Just play,” he urged gently, and she obliged, once again coaxing a breathtaking melody from the instrument with apparent ease.  
  
As Marian allowed herself to become absorbed in the music again, Harold began removing hairpins one by one, dropping them into the cup that held her pay from piano lessons. Curl by golden curl, her hair cascaded in a softly glowing mass about her shoulders. Her breath caught in her throat as he caressed the gilded silk, yet she continued playing regardless, not missing a note.  
  
She was so delicious, so perfect, and the whole long day at work lifted easily off his shoulders as he reveled in the knowledge that he was the luckiest man on earth to come home to her every night – that this most beautiful, extraordinary woman loved and desired him as much as he did her, and that she belonged to him so entirely.  
  
In the earliest months of their marriage, he’d always taken such care not to overwhelm her innocent and delicate sensibilities with the intensity of his ardor, and he’d long ago prepared himself for the reality that this approach might always be necessary, but he hardly ever worried about that anymore because his wife had unfailingly proven to be his complete equal in the bedroom, in enthusiasm if not in experience. He’d been astonished and thrilled to discover that whenever he was feeling amorous, which was frequently, she almost always responded in kind – like now, for instance.  
  
Brushing her hair aside just enough to reveal her alabaster neck, he inhaled deeply as he leaned in to press his lips to her soft skin, losing himself in the incomparable aroma of her soap and perfume and _her_ …  
  
“Darling, the window,” Marian sighed.  
  
His arms wrapping around her small waist, Harold brought his lips close to her ear and nipped at it gently. “They should be so lucky as to see,” he growled wickedly.  
  
She laughed in scandalized delight, her cheeks warming. “Somehow, I don’t think they’d see it that way.”  
  
“All right, I’ll get it.” As he stood up, the music professor wagged a teasingly imperious finger at his wife. “You keep playing, though.”  
  
He first closed the window, considering how well the sound of her playing had carried outside, and then pulled the heavy drapes over the decorative lace ones before returning to his seat behind her.  
  
“There,” he purred, dropping a few kisses along her shoulder and neck. “That should keep out those prying eyes. Now, no more distractions.”  
  
The librarian raised an impish eyebrow as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Except for you, Mister Hill.”  
  
Harold couldn’t help but smile – she had him there.  
  
As his arms wound around Marian’s waist once again and his open-mouthed kisses upon her neck turned to love bites, the tempo of her playing faltered, and he could hear her soft inhalation and feel the shiver that ran through her body.  
  
“Don’t stop playing,” he urged in a husky whisper, even as he brought his hands up to undo the top buttons of her blouse. First one, then another, her breathing heightening with each button, until he could finally slip his hands inside and trace the outline of her familiar feminine curves. His hands cupping her breasts, even through her corset, was what finally proved too much for Marian, and her fingers dropped heavily on the keys.  
  
He chuckled in her ear. “Even I can tell that’s not how it goes.”  
  
“As if that wasn’t exactly what you wanted me to do!” Though she pretended to scold him, she squirmed pleasantly in his arms, leaning into his touch. Now that they had both abandoned the pretense of her continued playing, Harold helped her swing her legs over the piano bench so she could turn to face him. As enjoyable as it was to mercilessly tease her while she played, he was craving more direct contact, as well as the chance to look upon that beautiful face.  
  
The heated mood between them was briefly broken, however, when Marian’s eyes softened in concern as she studied his face for the first time since he’d come home, and she placed a hand tenderly on his cheek. “Are you all right, darling? You look exhausted. You never even told me how it all went, staying late…”  
  
He gently took her hand from his face and kissed her palm. “Nothing interesting enough to talk about. The company said they’ll reimburse us for the lost order and send it again – none of it was anything we needed too immediately, thankfully. And the heat made everything feel worse than it was, as you’d expect.”  
  
“That must have been hard,” she said sympathetically.  
  
Harold couldn’t stop a wicked gleam from coming into his eyes, and he leaned in close to her as he pulled her blouse from her shoulders and tossed it carelessly aside.  
  
“Not as hard as – ”  
  
A flush stole into her cheeks, but she leveled a challenging, amorous gaze at him, daring him to finish his sentence. “What?”  
  
He gave her his most devious, charming grin. “I don’t need to say it, do I?”  
  
As if his meaning weren’t obvious already, now that they were facing each other, she only had to glance below his belt to see exactly what she did to him, and her eyes glimmered with appreciation and a hint of feminine pride.  
  
“You are a cad, Harold Hill,” Marian pronounced with mock reproof, even as she laughed and worked on unbuttoning his suit coat.  
  
“A cad, Miss Marian? You of all people ought to know that I’ve given up my wicked ways.”  
  
“Have you? Well, you certainly haven’t given up your wicked tongue.” Though she maintained her reproachful tone, her fingers brushed provocatively against his groin as she undid the final buttons, and she smiled at his rasping groan and the excruciating strain of his erection against the constricting fabric.  
  
Harold wrapped his arms firmly around his wife’s slim waist and pulled her so close that their lips were almost touching. “You _love_ my wicked tongue,” he murmured, and promptly proceeded to demonstrate just one of the wicked talents his tongue possessed as his lips crashed over hers.  
  
He hadn’t meant to kiss her quite as roughly as he did, but he was suddenly overcome with the intensity of his passion and pulled her forcefully against him, fingers sinking into her skin as he was swept up in some instinctual urge to possess and devour her completely. Fortunately, Marian didn’t seem to mind at all, kissing him back just as fiercely as she pulled off his coat and then removed his bowtie with a few decisive tugs.  
  
Soon, though, the music professor couldn’t help but slow his kisses down so he could luxuriate in the exquisite softness of her lips against his. As he pulled his darling wife up to her feet with him, he kissed, licked and nibbled at those beautiful lips until she sighed with happiness and longing.  
  
When she went to work on unbuttoning his shirt, Marian took the lead for a moment, trailing kisses along the bare skin she revealed as she undid each button, across his collarbone, up the side of his neck and along his stubble-covered jawline, each kiss an expression of sweet adoration that stirred his emotions as well as his lust. After pushing his open shirt down his shoulders, she curled her body into his and gazed invitingly up at him, spreading her hands across the expanse of his muscular chest. Her breasts were pressed snugly against him, pushed upward deliciously by her corset in a way he appreciated very much.  
  
As much as he enjoyed the view, however, he wanted that corset off her as quickly as possible. Drawing her in for another deep kiss, he loosened her corset with well-practiced ease until he could pull it down over her hips, unbuttoning her skirt and pulling them down in the same motion. Uncharacteristically, Marian simply kicked the discarded garments aside after stepping out of them, and Harold pulled her right back to him, cupping her face in his hands as he kissed her. He drank her in as if she were the most expensive and intoxicating of liquors – and he was absolutely inebriated on her.  
  
Grasping her bottom to press her flush against him, Harold guided her backwards until he could push her up against the piano, driven more by primal need than any rational thought process. When they could go no further, he planted his hands on either side of her, hammering loudly on several keys at once. Though Marian giggled at the discordant sound he’d created, her mirth soon disappeared as he moved his mouth to her neck, ever so gently letting his teeth follow the pattern he traced with his tongue on the delicate skin there. With a pleased moan, his wife tilted her head, inviting him to explore further. He continued his avid ministrations along her collarbone to her shoulder, tugging down one strap of her slip as he made his way down toward her breast.  
  
At first, he kissed and fondled her through her slip, his mouth leaving a damp patch on the thin fabric that allowed the dusky pink of her areola to show right through before he pushed her slip down, revealing her breast to the evening air. As he eagerly took her bare breast into his mouth, she arched against him and cried out, weaving her fingers into his hair to pull him as close as she possibly could.  
  
He was able to push her drawers down easily even as he lavished his attention on her breasts, and the moment it took for her to step out of them gave Harold an opportunity to stand back and look at his wife. With her hands at either side of her on the keys, one breast exposed, those long legs on display with one foot still in stockings and shoe popped back against the piano, Marian looked like a woman out of a dirty French postcard. The sight drove him absolutely wild.  
  
Trailing his fingers down her cheek while his other hand slipped down the remaining strap of her slip, Harold looked down into her half-lidded hazel eyes, "You're gorgeous," he said, plainly and truthfully, as if he hadn’t told her those same words a million times before.  
  
The edges of her lips curled into a teasing smile, though her eyes glowed with sincere joy. "You're not half bad looking yourself."

Before he could so much as feign offense, Marian’s nimble little hands were undoing his belt buckle and then the buttons of his trousers, and his powers of speech instantly fled. Her hand slipped inside his drawers as she regarded him with a saucy grin, her index finger tracing the length of his erection, and he shivered with a rasping groan, even though it was stifling in the late August heat. He couldn’t help himself from pushing back against her, his hips rocking in response to her touch, and she responded by grasping him and stroking him more insistently, pulling him ever closer as she did so, biting her lip with mischievous delight at his reactions.  
  
Suddenly, Harold could no longer wait another minute to have her. Extricating himself from her embrace with a great deal of reluctance and stepping back, he hurriedly divested himself of his remaining garments to expedite the process. Marian took the opportunity to drop the key cover behind her, watching her husband with ardent interest as he undressed. When her tongue darted out to lick her lips, he thought he might lose his mind.  
  
After he’d impatiently tossed his socks and shoes aside at last, he promptly lifted up his petite wife and set her right atop the key cover. A moment too late, he realized that, despite how cautious he usually tried to be, he hadn’t actually made his ultimate intentions clear, hadn’t ensured that she would be all right with this before he’d gone ahead and done it, and he stopped kissing her so he could pull back and take in the expression on her face.  
  
As it turned out, Harold didn’t even need to ask the question. Though she _did_ look slightly surprised at being placed on her piano, Marian gave him her answer without a word when she pulled him right back to continue the searing kiss he’d broken, her lithe legs coming up to wrap around him and pull him closer. Evidently, she had made up her mind on the matter already, and the music professor couldn’t have been more pleased.  
  
Running his fingers up and down her thighs, Harold watched, enthralled, as Marian wriggled and whimpered, wordlessly pleading for him to move his hands higher and stop teasing her. He gave her what she wanted, but only partially, stroking her with what he knew was a maddeningly light touch, and she let out a burst of breathy giggles as she tried to press closer to him while maintaining her precarious position on the piano.  
  
As much as he ached to be inside her, he wanted to take his time reveling in her body, and he couldn’t resist dropping to his knees between her legs, kissing his way up those porcelain thighs to where she was hot and wet and wanting. She unraveled in the most beautiful, decadent way at the first touch of his tongue upon her most sensitive places, just as he’d wanted her to do, her body melting into soft pliancy and yet tensing in certain places as well. Her fingers knotting in his hair, she trembled and cried out as he savored the familiar, intoxicating taste and scent and feel of her with the clever movements of his lips and tongue. In the way he knew would give her the most pleasure, he slipped one finger into her and then another, working her up into such a frenzy that she was absolutely desperate for him by the time he rose to his feet – she let out a forlorn, needy little cry when he pulled away that sent a surge of something like fire through his blood and straight below his waist.  
  
The very moment that he’d stood up, Marian had her legs wrapped tightly around his waist again, not merely inviting but insisting, but Harold continued to tease her mercilessly by stroking the tip of his erection along the length of her silken folds, still resisting the overwhelming urge to plunge into her despite all that glorious wetness and heat beckoning him to do so much more than tease.  
  
He truly didn’t know _what_ he was waiting for, why he was delaying both of their fulfillment to the point where he could barely _stand_ it, but his ultimate reward was well worth it – gorgeous eyes wide and darkened, his little librarian finally looked up at him and _begged_ him, plaintive, half-incoherent, very nearly giving voice to the sort of words she wouldn’t dare say –  
  
_Harold please I need you now please just – please_ –  
  
There was no other answer he could give but to surge forward to fill her at last, her gasp of bliss almost lost in his own as they joined together. His wife moaned unabashedly as soon as he began moving within her, and her obvious enjoyment spurred him on just as much as the as the exquisite pleasure beginning to build in his own body as he thrust into her welcoming warmth with long, eager strokes.  
  
Marian knew just how to move against her husband in response to his thrusts, knew him as well as she knew the piano keys. Her legs stayed wrapped snugly around his waist, still in stockings and shoes – though they soon heard one shoe clatter to the floor as they moved together, causing them both to laugh breathlessly for a moment. Then she pulled him in close for a torrid kiss, her hands finding their way to his backside to boldly press him deeper into her, and any hint of their laughter gave way to heated moans once again.  
  
She felt so unbearably good around him, fitting him so perfectly, and the sight of Marian naked and writhing with pleasure atop her own piano was nothing less than a fantasy come to life. Though he knew she would be self-conscious if she had the presence of mind to notice the sheen of perspiration on her skin, it was incredibly arousing to Harold. He loved that his proper, prim, and moral wife could be so wild and wanton with him, so utterly unashamed of her passion. It was beautiful, and even more precious because he was the only man who got to see her like this, the only man who ever would.  
  
More than anything else, it was the look in her eyes as he made love to her that bewitched and transfixed him, reflecting the same limitless love and desire that he felt for her – Marian seeing him and accepting him for everything he was and offering her entire self in return. Looking into her eyes, he felt like he was falling endlessly and yet somehow, at the same time, anchored and safe and home. Nothing else in the world could ever be so perfect.  
  
Harold found himself grasping her hips so tightly he was afraid he might bruise them, and he nearly stopped himself when he realized just how furiously he’d been thrusting into her, but to his surprise, Marian implored him to continue _exactly_ what he was doing. Without any further hesitation, he gave her what she asked for, moving his hips at a breakneck pace, fast and hard and reckless, and she drew her legs still wider for him, trembling from head to toe. Eager to give her all the pleasure she could withstand, he slipped his hand between her legs to stroke her in rhythm with his thrusts, and he watched in delight as her head fell back on a throaty moan and she clung to him for stability, nails sinking into his upper arms. Breathlessly, Marian pleaded for more and more and _more_ until, at last, she clenched around him and let out a long, sustained wail as she reached the heights of ecstasy.  
  
As she shuddered with the aftershocks of climax, Harold slowed his frenzied pace so he could catch his breath. He watched in utter awe as his wife trailed her hands over her overheated body, finding the hem of her slip and pulling it up over her head to toss it away, inadvertently thrusting her chest toward him with the motion. Harold couldn’t help but groan at the delectable sight, and he buried his head in her bosom, covering her breasts with kisses.  
  
When their eyes met again, Marian gave him a wicked smile, evidently proud of how her unintended display had affected him. Gazing right at him the entire time, she repeated the motion, deliberately this time, stretching her arms up slowly and sensually, openly reveling in her own beauty and nakedness.  
  
That was too much for Harold. Grasping her hips, he thrust into her furiously, groaning her name over and over until sheer pleasure overwhelmed him and he cried out helplessly as he found release, slumping into her arms and planting his hands on the key cover on either side of her to hold himself up. As he leaned against her with his eyes squeezed tightly against the onslaught of blissful sensation, he could feel her stroking his back, her nails lightly scoring his damp skin.  
  
When he had recovered at least a few of his faculties, Harold lifted his head and pulled back a little to look at his lovely wife. She was absolutely radiant, her sweet hazel eyes glowing with love and affection, and the music professor was swept up in his utter adoration of her.  
  
“Oh, Miss Marian, you certainly do know how to make a man feel at home,” he said with a grin, leaning his forehead against hers.  
  
She laughed. “I try my hardest.” Nuzzling his nose, she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Did you manage to eat anything tonight?”  
  
The question was so incongruous that it nearly startled him right out of his post-coital daze. “How can you think of food at a time like this?” he asked incredulously, still stroking her thighs.  
  
“Maybe I’m a very good wife who likes keeping her man happy?” She wickedly clenched around him for emphasis, eliciting a strangled gasp from him.  
  
“That you undoubtedly are. And I did get to eat – so I am fully sated now in all ways,” he answered, laughing. (Too late, he realized that he’d failed to even think to tease her about the potential double entendre in her question, a sure sign of how disoriented she had him.)  
  
Tilting her head, Marian raised a playfully skeptical eyebrow. “Are you really? I don’t believe you.”  
  
“You don’t believe I ate dinner?”  
  
“I don’t believe you’re done making love to me. I think you’d happily do it again.” Her voice dropped to a lower, huskier tone, her hands fanning out appreciatively on his chest.  
  
“Perceptive,” he teased – the fact that he was still inside her certainly must have helped lead her to that conclusion.  
  
“Would you like to accompany me upstairs, then?” Her discarded slip was only dangling off the edge of the piano, and she was able to grab it and slip it back over her head without moving much at all. She pulled it down as far as she could until it met his hips, still pushed against hers, belying her otherwise matter-of-fact question.  
  
He nodded slowly, entranced. “Yes, I think I’d like that very much.”  
  
Finally pulling away from her, Harold found his drawers and donned them, restoring a small amount of modesty for their trip across the house just as she had, then gathered up the rest of his clothes in a bundle under his arm. By the time he’d finished, his wife had gathered all of her clothes as well, and she gladly took the arm he offered her.  
  
As they stepped out of the music room together, Marian stopped for a moment and looked back at the piano, then met his questioning gaze with a blush that rather surprised him, given the way the evening had progressed.  
  
“When you bought this piano – back before we were married – did you, um, ever imagine…” She trailed off, the rest of her sentence unnecessary.  
  
“It certainly crossed my mind a few times,” the music professor admitted with a cheeky grin, knowing this answer was unlikely to shock her. It never failed to amuse and intrigue him that his wife took such obvious enjoyment in hearing about just how intense and explicit his desire for her had been even in the days before she could have fathomed such things. He’d discovered that such confessions drove her wild while they were in the throes of lovemaking – as did pressing her to confess the truth of her own desires during that time, which, in many if not most cases, she could only recognize in hindsight. It was a delightful intimate dynamic between them that had developed serendipitously out of what Harold had once feared would always be a cause of unwelcome tension.  
  
Indeed, while Marian’s blush deepened, a pleased smile spread across her flushed face. “Well, then – I like the way your mind works,” she proclaimed boldly. “Goodness, I can’t wait to find out all of the other things that have crossed your mind about me –  
us.”  
  
He’d barely had the time to stare at her in awe, his mind racing wildly with thoughts of every single torrid fantasy about the two of them this incredible woman had just implicitly asked him to introduce her to someday, before she’d taken him by both hands and began eagerly tugging him along toward the stairs. Needless to say, he didn’t have to be persuaded in the least to follow her lead.  
  
The music professor did spare a quick glance over his shoulder at the piano, though. Despite all her bravado tonight, Harold was certain that his little wife would blush furiously the next time she sat down to play now that they’d imbued the instrument with such a delicious memory. Of course, he found that thought absolutely adorable. And he especially enjoyed the possibility that, perhaps, the next time she set her fingers upon the keys, she’d find herself craving a repeat performance…


End file.
